


The Pearl

by twistedrunes



Series: George [19]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Death, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gang Rape, Gen, Gun Violence, Other, Pain, Past Rape/Non-con, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Sexism, Rape, Revenge, Slurs, Suffering, Threats of Violence, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-20 02:00:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17013426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistedrunes/pseuds/twistedrunes
Summary: Sabini straightens, moving away. Motioning another man to take his place. The new man drags you to your feet by the front of your shirt. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” Sabini spits, face inches from your own “Stealing my whores, my fucking whores, and putting them to work for you? Right under my fucking nose?” Sabini spews. Another man punches you in the stomach.All the breath leaves your body, leaving you gasping for air. Your legs collapse under you as you fold in half, your head coming to rest on the rough floor. Gasping you lift your head smiling as best you can. “They came to me.” The men drag you to your feet, and the man again punches your abdomen, higher this time. Again, your breath leaves you and your lungs burn. You fall to your side this time. You turn your head and look up at Sabini. “Not my fault you couldn’t keep ‘em satisfied.” You pant, sneering defiantly.





	The Pearl

Who the hell rings at this hour you think anxiously, wrapping your dressing gown around yourself tightly, racing across the freezing floor. You are reminded, yet again, you needed to get a longer cable for the phone so you can put it next to your bed.

“It’s a girl.” Alfie’s voice booms in your ear.

“A girl! That’s wonderful news Alfie, and Selene?” You replied relieved it wasn’t more sinister news.

“Fuck me if she isn’t amazing.” Alfie gushes. “She’s doing marvellously. Just feeding the little one now.”

Goliath comes and wraps his warmth around the back of you, chin resting on your shoulder. “Alfie?” He mumbles in your free ear.

You nod holding the receiver away from your ear, Alfie’s voice filling the room. “She’s beautiful. Right? Takes after her ma obviously. Fuckin’ perfect.” Alfie carries on.

“Alfie?” you try to interrupt him, but he’s too busy describing the exquisite details of his new daughter. You feel Goliath’s chuckle spreading through your body. You push on “Alfie I’ll give you to Goliath. Give my love to Selene.” You say handing the phone over and hurrying back to bed.

You were nearly asleep again when Goliath plopped himself down on the bed next to you. “I told him we’d go ‘round this afternoon.” He says kissing the tip of your nose. “I’m off to training.”

“See you later.” You say rubbing your hand over his cheek and guiding his face to yours for a proper kiss.

\-----------------

“She’s a beautiful thing isn’t she?” Goliath says again. A statement he had made about once a minute since you’d left Alfie and Selene’s. He leans back in the seat and looks across at you glassy-eyed and smiling wonkily.

“Yes.” You agree, again. “How much did you two drink?” You ask.

“Had to wet the baby’s head.” He asserts.

“So a lot then.”  You smile.  

“Fuck you’re beautiful.” He says sliding over and putting his head on your shoulder, looking up at you adoringly. “How’d I end up with a girl as amazing as you?” He asks wondrously.

“That’s not an answer.” You say patting his thigh and pulling the car up outside the brothel.

Thankfully Goliath is able to manage the stairs on his own. Once in the door, he pulls you in for a kiss. Lifting you and carrying you into the bedroom. “I have to go to work.” You remind him.

Goliath sighs as he puts you down and begins undressing. You pick up his discarded clothes and hang them on the back of a chair. He flops down on the bed, catching your hand and pulling you down to sit next to him “Makes you think doesn’t it?” He says entwining your fingers.

“About what a lightweight drinker you are?” You tease.

“No. About having a family.” He says caressing your thigh.  

You freeze. “That’s the booze and too much time with an emotional Alfie talking.” You say stalling, unprepared for the conversation you should have seen coming.

Goliath reaches out and strokes your face “You’ll make beautiful babies.” He says smiling.

“I have to go to work.” You say standing.

“Don’t go,” Goliath groans throwing his arm around your waist and pulling you on top of him. “We need to make babies.” He says kissing you.

“I think you just want sex.” You say patting his chest, as you push yourself up so you’re straddling him.  

“Mm, sex.” Goliath agrees nodding, his hands resting on your thighs. “And then babies.” He says his voice becoming serious. “I want to make babies with you.” He says, tugging your shirt out from the pants. Resting his palms on your hipbones, he caresses your stomach with his thumbs.

You peck his cheek. “Perhaps this is something we should discuss another time. When you’re sober.” You say, slipping off him and the bed.  “I’ll see you in the morning.” You say dropping a quick kiss on his forehead.

\----------------

“Let the minutes show that the annual general meeting of Shelby Company Limited is concluded at nine-fifteen am,” Tommy says lighting a fresh cigarette and looking over his assembled family. Michael packs the papers away as Tommy begins speaking again. “Lord Tarwin is planning a Gala Ball to celebrate the first anniversary of Alea Manor and the partnership between his family and ours,” Tommy says taking a deep drag of his cigarette.

Arthur, John, Michael and Finn grin at each other in anticipation of the party to come.

“Lord Tarwin tells me it will be the most spectacular event ever held this side of the Thames. There will be music, dancing and fireworks.” Tommy continues, his words rising with the smoke drifting out of his mouth.

“We should invite Anna,” Finn says. Tommy turns his gaze on him. “She’s the one who started it all.” Finn insists.

“No,” Tommy says. Finn shakes his head and slaps the table. Tommy glares at him. “She’s out of it now.”

\----------------

The smell of blood, and piss, and vomit fill your nose.

You can taste vomit too. And blood.

You open your eyes. Only one obeys. Your view doesn’t change. Murky darkness.

Your tongue probes your lips. Swollen and crusted with blood. You lift your hand to your mouth to feel the damage. You can’t reach. Bindings dig into your flesh as you struggle.

You can hear people talking but can’t understand a word.

A wave of nausea washes over you.

Retching you remember.

_Goliath is dead._

_The two of you were on your way to get lunch. It was something you did most days, the few hours between Goliath’s training ending and your work starting, becoming some of your favourite of the day. It was a typical late autumn day, cold and wet.  You had wanted to stay in. Preferably in bed._

_But Goliath had insisted that he needed fresh bagels, and you needed fresh air. Begrudgingly you had bundled up and hurried down the side alley towards Alfie’s bakery._

_Goliath wrapped his arm around you. Pulling you into him, engulfing you in the fabric of his coat, offering you his warmth. You laughed together as you tripped over each other’s feet._

_He had been teasing you about the fruit and vegetable vendor on the corner. Accusing you of flirting with the elderly man after he had offered you an orange when you stopped to say hello.  You’d pushed against his chest playfully. He’d dropped to the ground. You thought he was joking, as you reached out offering him a hand to get up._

_Until you looked at his face._

_Staring straight up at you. Nothing behind his eyes.  Blood pooling in the neat hole in the middle of his forehead._

\-----------------

Cold water brings you to. You splutter, finding your ankles bound together, hands tied behind your back. Having adjusted to the light, you look at Darby Sabini out of your good eye, still not able to open the other.

Sabini strides forward and hits you across the face with the back of his hand. You feel your lip split again and taste fresh blood in your mouth. You spit the blood out, smirking as it splatters on his thigh and spreads over the light grey fabric of his expensive silk suit.

“Did you and the Jew really think you could fool me?” He asks gripping your jaw and slapping you again.

You don’t respond.

“You know I might have let it go,” Sabini says benignly. “Victor was a useless piece of shit anyway. But then,” He holds his finger in your face. His face flashing with anger. “But then, you, the fucking Gypsy’s and the fucking Jew started fucking with my business.”

You hold his eye as best you can with your half-lidded one.

Sabini straightens, moving away. Motioning another man to take his place. The new man drags you to your feet by the front of your shirt. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” Sabini spits, face inches from your own “Stealing my whores, my fucking whores, and putting them to work for you? Right under my fucking nose?” Sabini spews. Another man punches you in the stomach.

All the breath leaves your body, leaving you gasping for air. Your legs collapse under you as you fold in half, your head coming to rest on the rough floor. Gasping you lift your head smiling as best you can. “They came to me.” The men drag you to your feet, and the man again punches your abdomen, higher this time. Again, your breath leaves you and your lungs burn. You fall to your side this time. You turn your head and look up at Sabini. “Not my fault you couldn’t keep ‘em satisfied.” You pant, sneering defiantly.  

Sabini buries his foot in your ribs. You scream as you feel them crack. The momentum rolls you to your back. Still, you lift your head, “Ha!” You bark weakly. Sabini grabs your hair dragging you to your feet. His men take an arm each as he punches your stomach again.

“You shouldn’t let him hit people before you do.” you wheeze “Tickles when you do it.”  

Strong hands grab your armpits and drag you across the room until you kneel in front of a trough of water. Sabini stands behind you, foot between your shoulders blades, he pushes you forward, forcing your head under the water. You begin to panic, thrashing as you run out of air.

Sabini releases you. Sputtering you lift your head out of the water trying to suck air into your lungs through the veil of wet hair. You are saturated to your waist. Water streaming down your face. Before you can get your breath back he shoves your head back under the water. This time you manage to control yourself more, but still you are panicking before Sabini finally releases you. You collapse on the floor.

“I’ll be back for her later,” Sabini instructs.

“What do you want us to do with her?” Someone out of your field of vision asks.

“Teach her a fucking lesson,” Sabini replies over his shoulder.

A hand grabs your throat. Pulling you to your feet. “Hello, Anna.” A vodka laden voice thick with a Russian accent leers. “Do you remember me?” His hand grabs your tit squeezing it viciously.

You close your eyes. Its Victor’s cousin, Zamir. Your skin crawls, bile rising in your throat. You would never forget Zamir. Middle-aged, with buggy eyes, he was the vilest man you had ever encountered. He seemed to get off on hurting you more than fucking you. Many of the scars on your back were from him cutting or whipping you.

“Have you been a naughty girl?” Zamir’s hot, rank, breath, pants against your neck as he unfastens your belt, pushing your pants to your ankles.

The tip of a knife dances against your skin. You bite your lip, inhaling deeply through your nose as he slashes your underwear and flesh. You shiver slightly as your panties fall away leaving you exposed. Shoving you against a crate, he pushes you forward, pressing your chest on top of it. He grunts as he forces himself into you.

Sinking your teeth into your lip, you close your mind, knowing resistance will only result in exciting Zamir further.  

_\------------------_

_“Come on” George whispers excitedly finding your father already passed out when you get home from the shop. He grabs your hand and pulls you down the alley._

_“Where are we going?” You ask, already anxious about what your father would do if he woke to find an empty house and no dinner on the table._

_George stops running and pulls a handgun from his pocket. “I’m gonna teach you to shoot.” He says breathlessly as he lines old cans up on the wall. He hands you the gun and stands behind you. “Take a deep breath, down here.” He says placing his hand on your lower abdomen. “Now look at the can you want to shoot. Through here,” he taps the sight “then when you’re ready, squeeze the trigger gently.” He says, tucking his face next to yours and softly placing his hand on yours._

_You hit the can first go. You spin around, and George hugs you excitedly. You both freeze, eyes locked. George leans forward until your lips touch. Hardly there but sending a bolt of electricity through you. Your heart stops in your chest, and you press back tentatively. You can feel George’s lips moving into a smile against yours._

_“What the fuck are you two up to?” Mr Maloney calls down from his second story window. “Fucking shooting at shit. Get home to two of you before I flog ya.”_

\----------------- 

Zamir’s hand tightens on your throat as he approaches climax. Darkness draws in like a curtain. You straighten as soon as he releases you, gasping for air.

“You’re not finished yet.” Another voice slurs, as your face is slammed back into the top of the crate.

_\------------------_

_“What’s this then?” Arthur asks plucking your cap out of your jacket pocket. He snaps his wrist unfolding it before peering at the brim and seeing the blades. He stops walking._

_You, John, Arthur and Michael were on your way to the Garrison. Polly having run you all out of the house when a glass got broken due to your rough-housing. John and Michael were walking slightly in front of you and Arthur._

_“Tommy gave it to me.” You say quietly, stopping too and looking at the ground intently._

_“What’s up?” John asks, noticing the two of you had fallen behind._

_“Tommy gave George one of these,” Arthur replies seriously holding your cap out for them to see._

_John nods in consideration, looking you up and down as he walks back to you. He snatches the cap from Arthurs’ hand, checking the brim “So why the fuck aren’t you wearing it then?” He asks, grinning and slapping the cap on your head._

_You stare at him. You’d been so sure John, in particular, would be annoyed that Tommy had made you a Blinder. “But,” you say shocked._

_“I’d say you fucking earned it.” Michael chips in grinning and patting your head. John and Arthur join in, all being overly enthusiastic.  Their patting turning into playful punches._

_“Fuck off.” You grunt, laughing as you slip between them and run off down the road. The threesome set off after you._

_Harry looks up at the rowdy group tumbling through the doors of the Garrison. He sighs and pulls a new bottle of whiskey from under the bar._

_“Whiskey Harry!” Arthur cries._

_“We need to welcome the newest member of the Peaky fuckin’ Blinders.” John bellows throwing his arm around your shoulder._

\----------------

“Hello?” Selene answers the phone on its third ring. 

“Sorry to disturb you, Selene. Alfie around?” Will asks

“No, he’s gone to Alea House for the Gala,” Selene replies. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m not sure. Can’t find Anna or Goliath. No one’s seen them since they left for lunch.”

“Have you called the gym?”

“Not there. We’ve been to Goliaths house and no-one’s answering.”

“Ah, young love,” Selene says her voice betraying the smirk on her lips. “They probably just lost track of the time. I’ll bet you’ll have a very red-faced and dishevelled Anna bursting through the door at any moment with some lame excuse.”

Will chuckles in agreement. 

\----------------

“Why aren’t you lot in the fucking truck?” Sabini’s snaps entering the cellar, door slamming behind him.  

The man on top of you grunts, fucking faster so he can get off before handing you over to his boss. Moaning he finishes. Despite the heat of the man pressed against you, you’re shivering with cold.  

“Get her up,” Sabini instructs. You feel semen sliding down your legs as you are brought to your feet. “Fucking cover her up,” Sabini says disgustedly. Your pants are yanked up and belt fastened.

“So have you learnt your lesson yet?” He asks you coldly.

“That all you wops have tiny cocks?” You reply through chattering teeth.  

Sabini smirks “Bitches like you need to be kept in place. Something that fucking Jew and the Gypsy’s obviously couldn’t manage.” He backhands you again “You’re like a rabid fucking dog spreading disease to all the other bitches. You should have been put down long ago.” He cocks a gun and holds it against your forehead.

You close your eyes and lean forward against the barrel, silently daring him to pull the trigger.

_\----------------_

_You fling the door of Finn’s room open, eager to tell him how furious John was discovering you were better at darts than him. Much, much better. So much better he had threatened to shoot you in the hand. Everyone had pissed themselves with laughter when Michael pointed out that you’d be safe as long as you stood more than six feet away from him._

_You had scored eight bullseyes to John’s one._

_The sight of Daisy lying back on Finn’s bed, cheeks flushed and eyes closed, skirt and petticoat around her waist, fingers locked into Finn’s hair, gasping as he knelt between her legs stops you short. You stand shocked and open-mouthed, unable to move or speak. To his credit, Finn doesn’t falter._

_“Oh! Fuck! Finn!” Daisy cries, shuddering as her orgasm rocks through her._

_As if the spell had broken you shout “Bullseye!” Mortified you turn tail and bolt, slamming the door behind you._

_“The fuck?” Finn cries flying to his feet, only to see his door shaking in the frame as it slams home._

_You were on your second whiskey when Finn called out from the hallway that he was taking Daisy home. You say nothing, rendered mute._

 

_You were on your fourth whiskey when Finn returned. He pours himself one and sits opposite you. Neither of you is able to look at the other._

_“Good to see you got that tongue thing sorted.”_

_“Fuck!” Finn groans pegging his cap at you, hitting you squarely in the face, he throws his arms up victoriously. “Bullseye!”_

_Your eyes meet, and you collapse in laughter. Tears streaming down your faces. Every time you catch the others eye a new fit of giggles erupts._

_Polly’s appearance in the doorway, causes both of you to stop, trying to maintain a serious expression. You manage about five seconds before again glancing at each other and collapsing in another fit. Polly regards the two of you with a cocked eyebrow and nonplussed expression. “You’re both fucking mad.” She says closing the door again._

\---------------

You giggle.

“What the fucks so funny?” Sabini spits.

“Bullseye.” You laugh harder. Fuck it hurts to laugh, but you can’t stop.

You feel the muzzle move from your forehead. “Fucking crazy bitch. Get her in the fucking truck.”

\-----------------

The ballroom is full to capacity. People are dancing, drinking and having a good time. The Gala is a success. Tommy stands quietly in a corner, cigarette in one hand, whiskey in the other. Carefully avoiding the gaze and attempts at conversation from the FG’s congregating around him. Gotta be at least a million in this room in jewels alone, he thinks, his attention momentarily caught by the flash of a brilliant diamond tiara. An attendant appears at Tommy’s elbow. “Mr Shelby, Lord Tarwin would like to extend an invitation to you and your brothers for a quiet drink in the library.”

“Certainly.” Tommy nods once. Another small jerk of his head brings his three brothers to his side.

\-----------------

The ride in the back the truck is long and uncomfortable. Every bump and cobblestone finding a new bruise or broken bone. Between groans, you focus on loosening the bindings on your wrists, now thankfully bound in front of you rather than behind. It’s difficult, you’re trembling with cold, and it’s dark. Finally, the truck stops, you can hear muffled music and voices. A party you wonder. You temporarily stop working the strands of hemp and focus on the conversation outside the truck.  

“Bring her in the back. Put this over her head.”

Hands grab your shoulders roughly as you are escorted over gravel before stumbling up some stairs. A sack is pulled over your head. Your guard’s huff as they try to manoeuvre you up what you guess is a very narrow staircase. The help’s staircase you think, realising you must be in some sort of stately home. Once up the stairs, you come to a halt, your captors delivering a sharp kick to the back of your leg to bring you to your knees.

\------------------

“I understand we have a mutual acquaintance, Mr Shelby, I hope you don’t mind if he joins us.” Lord Tarwin says conversationally, as his butler hands around glasses of cognac. He pauses swirling the glass and sniffing its contents deeply.

Finn and John look at each other before copying Lord Tarwin’s action. Nodding formally at each other after taking a sip. Arthur ignores them all and swallows the entire amount in one mouthful.

“Of course,” Tommy says amiably taking a sip from his glass, his tongue flicking over his lips chasing the amber liquid.

The butler opens the door at the far end of the room. “Yet again Thomas you are out of your league.” Sabini scoffs entering the library with a group of armed men. “Now be good boys and hand over your weapons.” He says, his men quickly accosting the Shelby’s.

“Not fuckin’ likely.” Arthur roars, pulling his gun from its holster.

“Leave it, Arthur,” Tommy instructs, holding his hand up slightly.

“Watch that one,” Sabini says gesturing at Arthur. “He’s a fucking animal.”

Finn, John and Arthur are patted down and their weapons removed. Arthur smashes his cognac glass into the face of the man patting him down. Resulting in a minor scuffle and him receiving a kick to the head. Sabini’s man left with blood pouring from his face.

Sabini disarms Tommy himself, plucking the gun from its holster between two fingers as if handling something distasteful. However, once it is clear of Tommy’s jacket, he examines it more thoroughly. Testing its weight in his hand and fingering the delicate inlay.  “Custom made Mr Shelby. Very nice.” He compliments sliding it into his coat pocket. “And where did you acquire such a beautiful item, not in Birmingham surely.”

“That gun was made for me by a friend, and when this business is done, I’ll be having it back,” Tommy replies, cigarette bouncing between his lips as he speaks. He turns slightly towards Lord Tarwin “Speaking of business, is there something you wish to discuss.”

Lord Tarwin clears his throat “I have decided to award the managerial rights of Alea Manor to Mr Sabini.” He says.

Tommy’s eyes widen slightly, a bemused expression on his face “We have a contract Lord Tarwin.”

“You don’t understand what is going on here Mr Shelby. This is merely a formality. The deal is done. You’d best accept it and move on.” Lord Tarwin says.

“And why the fuck should we do that?” Arthur snarls.

“I’m glad you ask.” Sabini smiles coldly. He raises his hand and motions to the man at the door.

Two men grab you under your armpits and drag you, your feet trailing behind, across polished floors. Before dropping you on the ground again. You hear Sabini’s voice “Because if you don’t, all your women will end up like this.” The hood is whipped off your head and your recoil in the sudden light.

“Fuck me,” You hear Arthur snarl.

“Anna!” Finn cries, struggling against the man holding him, earning a punch to the stomach.

“This little whore and her boyfriend have been fucking around in my business. This slut,” Sabini kicks you in the side, you roll over groaning, face down on the floor concealing your hands, breathing heavily through your nose “has been stealing my whores. Her fucking boyfriend has been fixing fucking fights. Fixes that don’t benefit me.” Sabini growls. “So we thought we would give you an example of what happens to people who don’t comply.”

You look at each of the Shelby’s in turn, meeting their eyes and smiling as best you can with only one eye and chattering teeth. Only Tommy doesn’t meet your gaze. His eyes locked with Sabini’s.

“So your plan is, that we leave or you’ll beat our women?” Tommy asks sarcastically.

“Kill them, and your children. I understand you don’t have a woman at the moment. Although this one seemed to hold your interest for a while.” Sabini sneers. Fishing Tommy’s gun from his pocket Sabini presses it to your head.

You snort. “You need better spies, mate.”

Tommy’s eyes flick to you, and back again so quickly you are unable to read his expression. Sabini punishes your outburst with another kick to the ribs. You coil up, gasping.

“No,” Tommy says plainly.

“She doesn’t matter to you?” Sabini asks incredulously.

“No.” Tommy shakes his head and shrugs. “And you won’t be taking Alea House.”

“What makes you think that hmmm? You’re out-manned, out-gunned and out-classed.” Sabini gloats.  

“It’s funny, Lord Tarwin, that your friend came tonight,” Tommy says ignoring Sabini and turning towards the Lord. “Because one of my friends is here from London too. I think he knows Mr Sabini as well. I hope you don’t mind I invited him to join us.”

“Tommy. Shalom. Shalom” Alfie cries joyously as if meeting an old friend unexpectedly, as he and at least twenty of his soldiers stream through the doors at either end of the room guns drawn. Tommy nods in acknowledgement. Alfie point’s his gun at Sabini’s head.

Sabini’s fingers dig into your hair and drag you to your feet. His hand goes to your throat as he pulls you in front of him as a shield, still pressing Tommy’s gun to your head.

“Alfie, what the fuck are you doing with these cunts?” Sabini cries. Squeezing your throat tightly.

“Well, we have a lot in common, right.” Alfie begins. “Oppressed peoples we are, yeah? Tommy, he’s a fucking Gypsy. Gypsy’s right, fucking persecuted all over the world just like my own fuckin’ people.” He turns to Tommy, who nods once in agreement. Alfie crosses the floor until he is standing in front of Sabini, so close your body is pressed between the two of them. Alfie nods as he makes his next point. “Just like my friend Anna here. See, now, she’s oppressed just because of what’s between her fucking legs. Or rather what ain’t.” Alfie’s eyes flick to you, a flash of anger in them as he takes in the state of you.

“I have no issue with you Solomons, just fucking walk away.” Sabini loosens his grip slightly.

Tommy blinks slowly, eyelashes stark against his pale skin. You notice the blue hue beneath his eyes betraying his fatigue. “Now that’s not much of an offer is it Alfie?”

“No Tommy. Insulting that is. Fucking insulting.” Alfie nods in consideration.

Sabini gapes at him.

“You see Mr Sabini, Lord Tarwin.” Tommy says looking at each of them in turn. A hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth. “We’ve been onto you since the start. Gypsy magic.” He taunts wiggling his fingers “Alea house is surrounded by my soldiers. In fact,” he fishes his fob watch out of its pocket and glances at the face. “By now we have control of the building. Our women and children are safe, protected by those we trust.” Tommy says, his voice quiet, level and calm compared to Alfie’s verbose utterings. “In addition, Alfie’s men and my own are currently seizing all your assets right across England. It’s all ours. You’re both finished.”

“The fuck?” Sabini cries, his anger causing him to jerk the gun from your temple and lose his grip on your throat.

You drop your hands and the rope pools at your feet. Pulling your concealed knife from your belt you spin and using one hand to push the arm holding Sabini’s gun away, the other stabs him in the neck. The gun goes off. The percussion knocking you backwards.

You fall, bringing Sabini with you. Your fingers, slick with blood, slip from the hilt of the knife.  In the confusion, Sabini’s men are quickly disarmed. Tommy’s gun clatters to the floor. Sabini’s eyes are wide as blood pours from his neck over you. Shaking your head to clear it you pull the knife from his neck and rhythmic spurts of blood arc across the floor. Sabini’s hands grasp at his throat as he gurgles desperately.

Alfie pushes Sabini off you with his foot. He reaches down, holding out a hand to assist you. “They killed Goliath.” You say hollowly, looking up at him.

Alfie’s eyes blaze. He helps you to your feet before turning away. He begins pacing in a circle, eyes closed, muttering under his breath, ignoring all other activity in the room. Sabini lies on the floor twitching and gurgling, one hand pressed to his throat as the other claws at the air desperately.

Arthur, John and Finn appear around you. Arthur and John wrapping their arms around your waist supporting you. You hiss as John presses against your ribs.

“Come on love sit down,” Arthur says as he turns you gently lowering you into a chair.

“Give me your snow.” You say through gritted teeth.

“I don’t think,” Arthur begins

“Fucking now.” You say holding your hand out. Arthur glances at John before shaking his head slightly as he hands over the vial. With shaking hands, you tap the white powder out onto the back your hand. Raising your hand to your nose, you inhale deeply. “Fuck.” You hiss as explosions go off in your head.

Behind you, you can hear Tommy. “Lord Tarwin sign here. Here. Here. Here. Here.” The instructions interspersed with the sound of pages turning.  

“You can’t do this.” Lord Tarwin protests weakly. “No-one will believe you obtained the properties legally.”

“Of course we did,” Tommy replies flatly. Bundling the papers and tapping them on the table top to straighten them. “You defaulted on your loans, and the bank called them in. We were good enough to meet your obligations. It’s also why you are going to walk out of here without the beating you so deserve. If you ever try to cross us again, you won’t be so lucky.”

“I’ll tell everyone what you’ve done here, no-one will believe the word of a Gypsy gangster over my own.” Lord Tarwin says pulling himself up to his full height.

“If you prefer you could take your own life to avoid the shame.” Tommy threatens banally. Lord Tarwin swallows hard.

 

Alfie having finished his private contemplation turns again to Sabini. He lifts him by his shirt front yelling at him. Italian you think. Then he releases his anger upon him. Curses falling from his lips with each breath. Blood and gore spraying onto the walls and furniture.

Lord Tarwin’s gaze turns to Alfie, eyes widening. Tommy pulls fifty pounds from his pocket and hands it to the Lord “France is lovely this time of year.” he says. Then nodding to Finn and John, and they escort Lord Tarwin from the room.

Tommy strolls over to join you and Arthur, all three of you watching Alfie empty his rage into Sabini. Tommy places his fingers under your chin and lifts your face to him. His jaw flexes. “You need to get to a hospital.” He instructs

“No, I have business here.” You say, jerking your face from his touch.

“We’ll deal with this,” Tommy says sternly to you. “You’re not part of this.”

You stand. “Really? Because from where I’m standing it feels like I’m fucking involved. My boyfriend is dead, and I’ve been kidnapped, beaten and raped.” You’re no longer speaking but now yelling, you’re eye blazing with fury. You feel Arthur and Alfie both straighten, curses mixing together, filling the air with crackling tension. Alfie lays into Sabini again with renewed fervour. Even Tommy’s eyes flash with something other than calm briefly. “So tell me what needs to happen for me to be considered part of this?”  You demand as you hold Tommy’s gaze, straightening as the cocaine starts to take effect.

Tommy says nothing.

“Right, so you toddle off and attend to your grand fucking plan, and I’m going to deal with this.” You conclude, motioning for him to leave.

Alfie grunts in agreement finally finished with Sabini. You look up at him “I want every fucker who was in the truck they brought me here in.” You say flatly.

“Get them,” Alfie instructs two of his men, turning back to you his brows furrowed.

John returns “Everything’s under control out there.” He says to Tommy.

Tommy glares at you before turning away without a word. “Arthur.” He calls heading for the door.

“I’ve got work to do ‘ere.” Arthur grunts, eyes burning across the men still being detained by Alfie’s soldiers. Arthur removes his jacket hanging over the back of a chair, he then rolls his sleeves to his elbows.

Tommy shakes his head but leaves. 

Alfie undergoes a similar procedure to Arthur, adding his hat to the pile and wiping his face and hands with his handkerchief. Sabini gurgles from the corner of the room, blood bubbling out of his nose and mouth. 

Alfie’s soldiers enter the room with three more men. “These are all the ones with the truck Mr Solomons.” One of the soldiers says. Zamir is amongst them.

“Put ‘em with the others,” Alfie instructs. He moves closer to the group of Sabini’s men stood in a row near the fireplace. Starting at the first of Sabini’s men, Alfie walks along the row looking at each man with a withering stare. He rolls his shirt sleeves to his elbow as he walks. On his return journey, he pauses grabbing a man by the throat and lifting him off the ground. “Where’s my nephew’s body?” He asks quietly. None of the men responds. A pained cry comes from the man Alfie is holding by the neck, as Alfie’s fist slams into his nose. Blood runs down Alfie’s arm and blooms up his sleeve. Adding a vibrant streak to the already rusting blood from Sabini. “Where’s Goliath’s fucking body?” He repeats, his voice a threatening growl as he pulls his arm back ready to strike again. Again no answer. Alfie’s fist meets the man’s jaw with a sickening crunch. Alfie drops the man to the floor. “Never known Italians to be so fucking quiet.” Alfie grumbles “Normally it’s fucking impossible to shut the fuckers up.”

Arthur snorts at the irony.

“Get them to strip.” You suggest.

Alfie nods and gestures for his men to carry out the task.  He walks back and forth along the line of Sabini’s men as they are stripped. His right hand glistening with blood, small droplets dripping to the floor, looking like a gruesome trail of breadcrumbs.

 

“You don’t have to stay.” You say to Arthur.

“Nah. It’s all just thinking out there now.” Arthur replies under his breath, ducking his head so you can hear him. “Tommy reckons he does enough of that for all of us. This is what I do.” He concludes.

“Thank you.” You say.

“I’m sorry about Goliath love.” He says placing his hand on your shoulder. “It’s bad fucking business.” He shakes his head.

Fatigue washing over you, you rest your head against his shoulder. You look up and notice the men are all stripped down to their boxers. “Stripped, naked.” You say to no one in particular. Alfie grunts confirming your order.

Alfie, having reached the end of the line again stops at his jacket and pulls out the gun you made, and Tommy gifted him. He chooses a man from the line, already stripped with his hands covering his modesty. “Kneel,” Alfie instructs. The man resists. Alfie stands next to him, kicking his leg out to the side and smashing his foot against the man’s knee. The man screams as his knee dislocates and he falls to the floor. Alfie grabs his cheeks holding his mouth open as he forces the gun inside. “Where is my nephew’s body?” Alfie repeats.

“At the club.” The man screams around the barrels.

Alfie drops him and turns to you and Arthur. “I need to make a call.” He says leaving the room.

You smirk looking at the men all desperately trying to hide themselves with their hands. “Why are you all so shy?” You ask, pitching your voice higher than your normal tone. “No-one was this shy a few hours ago. Everyone wanted to show me their cocks.” You hear Arthur grunt with displeasure behind you. “How about you all put your hands behind your backs, mmm?” The men hesitate.

“Bad at following instructions these ones,” Arthur observes. Casually, tapping cocaine onto the back of his hand. “How about we get the lads to the tie them back.” He suggests snorting the line.

“Would you mind lads?” You ask Alfie’s soldiers pleasantly. Alfie’s soldiers proceed to tie the naked men’s hands behind their backs, using their own ties. “So who killed Goliath?” You ask. Sabini’s men remain silent. You tut in irritation “Kneel.” You instruct. No one moves, Alfie’s soldiers shove the men roughly to the ground.

Once the men are kneeling, you move closer. “Not much to look at.” You comment glancing at their crotches. ‘Why don’t you all spread your legs?” You suggest slipping your foot between the thighs of the first man until his knees are a foot apart. You carry on down the line repeating the process for each man, parting their knees.

You reach Zamir. “Can’t get enough of me?” He leers spreading his legs willingly. Bile rises in your throat as you realise he’s at half-mast.

Alfie returns, he has apparently made an attempt to clean himself up as his face, hands and forearms are no longer smeared with blood. He heads directly to the sideboard and pours three glasses of cognac. “Anna.” He says motioning for you to join him and Arthur.

You take a sip before turning to Alfie. “So what’s cognac the drink for?” You ask dryly.

Alfie runs his palm over his mouth, fingers working the hair on his chin. “Well, cognac it’s from France innit.” He nods agreeing with himself “So it’s gotta be for sending fuckers to hell. Yeah?”

“Fuck me,” Arthur growls raising his glass. You and Alfie raise your own in a silent toast.

“Gentlemen,” You say looking from Alfie to Arthur and then to naked men in front of you. “Do you mind?”

“Ladies first,” Arthur says stepping aside.

 

Returning to Zamir, you stand behind him, pulling his head back by his hair forcing him to look up at you. “I’m going to grant your every wish tonight Zamir. I’m going to show you just how naughty I can be.”

Zamir’s eyes bug-out further than usual as he licks his lips. You do a lap around the men. Zamir spreads his legs further as you reach him. You drive your foot between his legs. For probably the first time in your life, you wish you had a pair of Polly’s pointy-toed heels. Zamir’s legs snap shut as he falls on his side, gasping like a fish out of water. A pool of blood quickly forming around him. Struggling against the restraints Zamir desperately tries to bring his hands to his cock for protection and comfort.

“Who shot Goliath?” You repeat. Again no one speaks.

Zamir continues wailing, you snatch up his boxers and shove them in his mouth muffling his screams. “Get him up.” You instruct the soldier behind him. Zamir is dragged back to his knees. Zamir is still folded in half squeezing his legs together. Tears stream from his eyes and snot from his nose. “Make him sit up nicely.” You instruct Alfie’s man, he grins at you wolfishly, grabbing a tuft of Zamir’s hair and pulling him up. “Open your legs Zamir.” You say quietly. Zamir shakes his head, snivelling.  “Zamir.” You repeat, lifting your foot and pressing the heel between his thighs and sliding it up to press above his pubic bone. He squeals, huffing around the gag in his mouth. “Open them, or I will have the boys do it for you.” Sobbing Zamir spreads his knees by about an inch, his breath catching as he does so. “Further.” You direct, pushing down with your foot. He opens another inch. “I’m losing my patience Zamir.” Shoulders slumping and sobbing Zamir complies with your request. “Good boy.” You say patting his cheek as you grind your heel into his crotch.

Behind you, Alfie leans towards Arthur. “You say you’re an Old Testament man?” He asks voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” Arthur grunts quietly, eyeing Alfie distrustfully.

Alfie raises a jewelled hand in your direction “Well that right there, yeah, is the fucking wrath of God.”

“Too fuckin’ right.” Arthur agrees.

You turn your attention back to the remaining men, walking along the row. Tapping their knees apart as you go. “Who shot Goliath?” Again there is no response.

Pausing at the fireplace, you put the poker in amongst the coals before taking the ash shovel from the stand. Walking back to the men you spin the shaft of the shovel with your fingers.  You stop in front of one of the men. You turn away investigating the shovel before spinning rapidly and slamming the shovel against this head. The man yells in pain, the soft skin at the tip of his eyebrow has split, and blood is flowing down his face. “Who shot Goliath?” You ask raising the shovel above your head again. The man flinches away from you, and you laugh.

Even to your own ear, it’s hollow and mocking. You start to cough, wincing in pain with the movement of your lungs. You hold onto the back of a chair for support.

“You right love?” Arthur says placing his hand on your back.

You nod. Alfie hands you another cognac. You take it in one shot. Alfie points to the assembled men, eyebrows raised questioningly. You nod leaning back against the chair.

“Shall we?” Alfie says to Arthur.

“Thought you’d never ask,” Arthur says clapping his hands together.  

Arthur and Alfie stand side by side in front of Sabini’s men. Watching their backs you smile, thinking how unlikely it was that these two men would be working together.

“Who killed fuckin’ Goliath?” Arthur growls. No one answers. After a moment’s hesitation both Alfie and Arthur launch on the men in a flurry of fists, knees and elbows.

“Antonio!” One of the men cries. Alfie and Arthur pause, looking at the man who has called out. The man jerks his head at the man to his left.

Alfie and Arthur glance at each other. “You have this one mate,” Arthur says holding Antonio by the hair.

Alfie grins and grabs the man by the throat “Thank you, Arthur.”

It’s surreal, you think watching the scene in front of you. You nearly laugh at Alfie and Arthur’s civility amongst the carnage, both smeared with blood, sweat running cleansing rivulets through the gore, minding their P’s and Q’s. 

The violence begins again. This time directed solely at Antonio. Alfie and Arthur both grunting expletives and the occasional slur as they beat him.  

In the melee, Zamir gets knocked to his side. He’s still bleeding, and it appears you had ruptured something important. You can feel the effect of the cocaine beginning to wane, fuzziness returning to your brain. You sway slightly, you grit your teeth determined to finish punishing Zamir. Stumbling you retrieve Arthur’s jacket from the chair and find the blue vial in the inside pocket. Tapping it on your hand, you snort deeply. The irritation in the back of your throat sets off a new round of coughing.  You pour yourself another cognac and sit heavily at the desk. Blood flies from your mouth, leaving a stippled impression of your glass on the desk blotter. Realising time is limited you make your move.

The handle of the poker is warm, and the tip glows white. Your vision narrows so you can only see Zamir, you shake your head to chase the encroaching darkness away. Not yet, you will yourself. You want to talk, to tell Zamir that he needs to suffer, to carry the scars as you do. But your tongue is thick and heavy, and your lips are stuck together, making it impossible to form words. You want to tear the man who killed Goliath limb from limb. But, your limbs, are beginning to feel like lead. Using only will you raise the poker above your head, bringing it down on Zamir’s huddled frame again and again. You can barely hear the screams over the noise of your blood pounding in your ears. You can’t tell if they are yours or his.

“He’s dead.” A voice says catching your wrist before taking the poker from your hands. You wail in disappointment at the loss of your weapon. The seething hatred seemingly boiling up and out of you, as larva-like, black and red vomit cascades from your mouth. You crumble to your knees retching. “Fuck.” You hear the voice say, as hands help you to your feet. “You need a hospital.” It’s Tommy.

“No!” You scream, slipping in the pool of vomit as you struggle to get away. You’re caught and held before being scooped up and carried out of the room. You continue to struggle, panic blinding you to any pain your struggle is causing. Unable to free yourself you grab Tommy’s lapels and beg. “No hospital.” Tommy doesn’t look at you. Reaching up you slap him. It’s not even hard enough to raise a red mark, but Tommy looks down. “Please Tommy.” His scent is slowly filling your nose, and you curse the calming effect it has on you. “Please.” You mumble pressing your head against his chest.

“Finn open the door.” Tommy orders. Settling you on a chair in the room, he turns back to Finn “Get the doctor.”

“Doctor.” You agree slumping backwards in the chair breath coming in shallow bursts, as you allow your eyes to close.

Tommy is standing above you, watching you when you open your eyes as your breathing steadies. “Diversion or punishment?” You ask him.

“What?” He asks brow furrowed.

“Was I a diversion or were you punishing me?” You clarify.

“What?” Tommy asks again.

In different circumstances, you would have enjoyed watching him confused. As it was usually you that had no idea what was going on in discussions between the two of you. “Were you using me as a diversion for Sabini? Or did you just decide to let him take me and kill Goliath as punishment for whatever wrong you perceive I have done against you?”

Tommy’s eyes close, and he pulls a cigarette and lights it. Blowing a thin stream of smoke at the ceiling before answering. “Neither, I thought you were safe in London.” He says.

You snort, and it turns into a cough. Tommy hands you his hanky. You hold it over your mouth until you stop.  Crushing it in your hand, when you’re done so Tommy can’t see the blood you know is there.  

“There was no hint he was interested in anything other than Alea Manor.” Tommy continues quietly. “After you sent Reginald away I got Alfie to keep an eye on you.” You scowl. Tommy shakes his head. “He watches Goliath anyway. There was nothing to indicate you or Goliath were in any danger.”

“Watched.” You correct him.

“Pardon?” Tommy says.

“Alfie watched Goliath, past tense.” You close your eyes for a moment. Tommy’s hand slides to your shoulder. You shake it off. “Why didn’t you tell me?” You ask.

“I was going to.” You open your eyes looking up at him in disbelief. “You wouldn’t listen.” He accuses.

“When?” You snap.

“The day you left,” Tommy says matter-of-factly.

“You broke into my house, Tommy. You accused me of putting your family and business in danger. You kept babbling about my Birthday.” Realisation suddenly dawns on you “You thought I’d met with Sabini when I ran out of petrol?”

Tommy’s jaw tenses and he shakes his head. “No.” he pauses “For a minute," he concedes "but you were right, even if you were meeting them, you’re too smart to call first and leave your car unattended on a major road.”

There’s a knock at the door. Alfie’s head appears through the crack, he’s sweating and puffing slightly, and blood stains his shirt. You try to stand but nearly pitch forward. Tommy catches you and lowers you back into the chair. Alfie comes and squats down in front of you. He brushes a piece of hair from your brow. Before he can speak, you collapse against him “I’m sorry.” You sob.

He wraps his arms around you carefully. “Shush. It’s not your fault.” He says firmly. “They all paid.”

“I killed your nephew.” You whisper.

“No,” Alfie says firmly. “You didn’t, the fuckers who hurt you did, the fuckers who shot Goliath did. This is not your fault. I thought the two of you were safe. I stopped watching you, so we had more men for this business.”

Another knock sounds at the door, Doctor Prendergast steps in. “You two out.”  He says before his eyes have even finished their sweep of you. “Get someone to bring me a basin of warm water.” 

Alfie presses a quick kiss to your forehead, and Tommy nods as they leave the room. The Doctor turns to you. “What hurts?” He asks opening his bag and beginning to unpack his equipment.

You slump in the chair your eyes closing “Everything.” You feel the Doctor pat your knee kindly.

“Anna?” Doctor Prendergast asks quietly.

You half open your good eye “Hmm?”

“You need to go to hospital.” The Doctor says cautiously.

“No!” You refuse, sitting up and opening your good eye as much as possible.

“I need to do some x-rays and some other things I don’t have the equipment for, here or in my surgery.” He tries to explain carefully.

“No! I’m never going back there.” You reiterate.

“We’ll go to London. The heads of one of the hospitals there worked with me in France, it’s safe. I’ll be with you the whole time.” Doctor Prendergast offers. 

“I have to go to Goliath’s funeral. It will be today. He told me once that Jews have to bury their dead as soon as possible. I need to go.” You say inching your way across the bed.

There’s a knock at the door. “Come in.” Doctor Prendergast answers.

Tommy crosses the threshold. “I couldn’t help overhearing.” He says.

“Anna needs a hospital.” The Doctor tells him.

“What I need is to go to Goliath’s funeral.” You say directing your comment to the Doctor rather than Tommy.

Tommy’s eyes close for a moment. “The funeral is this afternoon. We’re all going. We’ll take Anna and then she can go to the hospital afterwards.” He concludes.

Doctor Prendergast shakes his head “If her rib punctures her lung,” He warns.

“I know the signs,” Tommy assures the Doctor with a nod.

“I’ll meet you at the hospital.” The Doctor concedes.

“Thank you.” You say gratefully.

“I’ll give you something for the pain before you go. Not morphine.” He says before the words have left your mouth.

\---------------

The gaping maw of the grave beckons you, a strange sense of vertigo drawing you towards it. You sway slightly. Polly squeezes your hand. She hasn’t left your side since she arrived at Alea Manor. She had bathed and dressed you. Providing you with all black clothing and a hat with a veil to hide your face from prying eyes. A compassionate gesture. Your appearance was monstrous’ your eyes swollen shut and purple with bruises, lips bloated, dry and cracked and grazes everywhere there wasn’t a bruise.

The medication the Doctor had given you numbed you. Oblivious to the words the Rabbi and then Alfie spoke. Barely aware of the mass of Alfie’s soldiers, the boxing fraternity, the friends from Selene’s brothel, Jew’s from all over London and a much smaller but still visible group of Shelby’s. You were impervious to the needle-like rain squalling around you, wind gusts tugging at your skirts.

_\----------------_

_"I had lunch with Selene today,” Goliath says, leisurely tracing patterns on your arm as you lay entwined._

_You were enjoying a rare evening together. You had needed to meet with suppliers during the day and so had swapped shifts with Dolly the day girl. Goliath had cooked dinner. Then you had spent a peaceful evening together culminating in passionate lovemaking._

_“Mm?” You reply lazily still fuzzy from your orgasms._

_“She told me that you’re like a pearl oyster.” He says._

_“That was kind of her.” You say sarcastically._

_“She asked me what my intentions were. I told her that I cared deeply for you that I want a future with you, but that I didn’t know if you felt the same.”_

_Your heart stings “Goliath,” you begin._

_“No, let me finish.” He says softly._

_“She told me that she grew up in the Pacific, her parents were missionaries.” You grin at the thought of the preacher’s daughter turned whore and married to a Jew. It did explain her hostility towards street preachers though. Goliath glances down at you to see if you’re listening. You nod, and he continues. “She said pearls come from inside an oyster, they make them inside themselves. You’d never think such a beautiful thing as a pearl would come from an oyster, hard and ugly on the outside but they do, they’re like precious gifts.”_

_“So I’m hard and ugly?” You ask confused._

_“No!” Goliath moans “Well yes, I mean the oyster is a soft animal inside a hard shell. A pearl starts out as a tiny spec of sand or grit, and the oyster builds up layers and layers of protection around it, making it firmer and more beautiful with each layer. Until it’s this precious gem. If you open up the oyster too early, the pearl isn’t developed enough, and so it’s soft and crumbles. Selene said that to grow a pearl the oyster needs the right conditions, it needs the right environment.”_

_“I’m a pearl?” You ask now entirely lost in his analogy._

_“Yes, No.” Goliath groans. “You’re the oyster, the thing inside. Soft and squishy. But you have a hard shell. But inside you, there’s a little bit of grit, a little bit of love. But it’s never been in the right environment to grow. You need the right conditions, you need to be nurtured and supported for love to grow. For it to get strong and beautiful so you can put it out in the world. But it’s going to take time.”_

_He stops looking down at you, face etched with worry. “What I’m trying to tell you is, I’m ready, my pearl is mature, I want to give my love to you.” You lay your hand on his chest, fear clutching at your heart, your expression pained. Goliath smiles. “But you’re not, and that’s okay.” He takes your hand and squeezes it tenderly.  “You can’t be impatient with a pearl, it has to grow in its own time.” He lifts your chin with his fingers making sure to hold your eye. “I’ll help you nurture it. I’ll help it grow. And I’ll wait.”_

 


End file.
